


To Market, To Market

by mrstater



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Domestic Bliss, F/M, Family Feels, Family Issues, Fluff, Humor, Marriage, Obi-Wan is happy and has a wife and friends, Shopping, Tatooine, because he deserves it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-05 00:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14604909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrstater/pseuds/mrstater
Summary: Obi-Wan makes a solo trip to Mos Espa, where he acquires an unexpected companion at the market, and returns home to Sabé with quite a bit more than was on his shopping list.





	To Market, To Market

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Born of Light](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11529009) by [bratanimus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bratanimus/pseuds/bratanimus), [mrstater](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrstater/pseuds/mrstater). 



> This story is set several months after [Born of Light](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11529009/chapters/25880316), a multi-chaptered Sabewan fic co-authored by Bratanimus and me. Many thanks to her for beta-reading (twice!) and for creating this 'verse and these OCs with me. It was fun to revisit!

"You're not Mari," greeted the grizzled man dressed in mechanic's coveralls who'd come out of the garage at the sound of the approaching landspeeder which did, indeed, belong to his daughter.

Obi-Wan grinned above the dusty scarf he'd just tugged down to reveal his slightly less dusty beard. "Whatever gave it away?" He removed his goggles, blinking away the errant grit that had made its way into his eyes, and climbed down from the vehicle to meet Mr. Soren's outstretched hand. "Alas, I'm not Mari, though she does send her love--along with fresh eopie butter and cheese."

"Did someone say cheese?" Wulfric Starfall blundered out of the garage, wiping his hands on a grease-streaked shop rag. He, too, wore coveralls; the greasy streaks across the front indicated Mr. Soren had been keeping his grandson busy. "Hey, Ben," he added as an afterthought on his way directly to the rear of his parents' speeder, where the food items were stowed in an insulated case.

"Good to see you, Wulfric," Obi-Wan replied. "It's been a while."

Sweeping the youth with his gaze, Obi-Wan found their heights were not so disparate as the last time he'd seen Wulfric. He remembered how his own apprentice at this age had seemed sometimes to sprout up or mature overnight--and a few months' worth of nights had elapsed since Wulfric went to stay with Mari's parent's in Mos Espa and learn the mechanic trade. No wonder he was excited about cheese.

"Where's Sabé?" he asked.

Obi-Wan's smile stretched. In the language of fifteen-year-old boys, that practically meant _it's good to see you, too_ , _Ben._ "At home, giving your brother and sisters haircuts. Mari kindly lent me the speeder for my errands."

"Oh." As Wulfric straightened up, his dark hair fell over his forehead; he gave his head a toss to get it out of his eyes but wasn't entirely successful.

"Wulfie here could use a trim, too," said Mr. Soren. "Maybe he should go back to the Wastes with you."

"My hair's _fine,_ Grandpa." Wulfric shifted the cooler to one arm and reached up with his free hand to push his fringe aside, then caught himself. The instant his back turned, Mr. Soren's shoulders began to shake with silent laughter. For a moment he watched the youth retreat into the garage, then went after him, gesturing for Obi-Wan to follow.

He forced himself not to wrinkle his nose at the acrid odors of engine oil and burnt fuel that hung heavy in the air from the two podracers docked in the bay for repairs. Instead, he remarked, "Business appears to be booming."

"Always does, close to the Boonta Eve Classic."

"You must be glad for an extra pair of hands."

They'd come into the breezeway between the garage and the family residence. The amusement that lit Mr. Soren's eyes about Wulfric's hair flared into the bright glow of pride, and his chest puffed. "Wulfie's got his mother's knack for machinery, that's a fact. But…" He paused, the light not dimming from his eyes even though his smile softened. "Mari's heart wasn't in it, either. And I'd rather see him fix things with Sim than take over the garage."

Obi-Wan nodded. The Starfalls had hoped that time apart would heal the wound that opened between father and son when Wulfric spoke with Imperial recruiters and revealed dreams of another life than that of an eopie rancher on Tatooine. Unfortunately, it seemed the change of location had not yet changed hearts.

"Ben brought cheese from Mom," the adolescent's creaky voice drifted out to them. "Can I have some bread and jerky, too?"

"Wulfie, you just finished breakfast!" Mrs. Soren appeared in the doorway, an apron tied over her split skirt, hair aflame as it caught the morning sun. "Ben! What a treat. But no Sabé?"

"See cuh erron's air," Wulfric explained with a mouth full of--presumably--cheese.

"Mari's told me what an artist Sabé is with hair," said Mrs. Soren.

"You understood that?" Her husband goggled. He sidled past her into the kitchen, tousling Wulfric's shaggy hair, which earned him an eyeroll and a sigh.

Beckoning Obi-Wan inside, where the aromas of baking bread and something sweet lingering from breakfast wafted stronger than the garage odors, Mrs. Soren went on, "I'll have to go out to your place one of these days and see if she can do anything with mine."

"She'd enjoy the company," Obi-Wan said. "We don't have many visitors."

Only the Starfalls, and recently Sabé hadn't felt up to making the desert journey to return their calls.

"Won't you come in for caf and doughnuts?" asked Mrs. Soren.

How could he refuse? "Just one cup, thanks." He took a seat at the kitchen table, where Wulfric was already devouring the cheese. "I don't want to leave Sabé for too long."

Mrs. Soren smiled knowingly as she placed a steaming mug in front of him and a platter of small powdered doughnuts in the center of the table, but Wulfric, who'd just reached for one, darted concerned eyes at Obi-Wan from behind his fringe.

Swallowing, he asked, "She okay?"

Wulfric had, of course, witnessed Sabé in the grip of a panic attack not long after her arrival on Tatooine, when she'd barely recovered from a bout of Dantari flu.

"Just a little under the weather," Obi-Wan replied with a wink. "I'll tell her you asked after her."

Visibly reassured, Wulfric nodded and crammed a doughnut into his mouth.

"I'll pack up some extras for you to take her," said Mrs. Soren. "If she feels like eating."

"If Wulfie leaves any," Mr. Soren muttered as he joined them with his own caf.

Obi-Wan popped one into his mouth, _hmm_ ed in appreciation, then licked the powdered sugar off his fingers. "If anything can tempt Sabé's appetite, it would be your doughnuts."

They certainly tempted his. Keeping to just the one cup of caf tested his restraint. Mrs. Soren wanted to know how the cellar garden had fared during first growing season, but Obi-Wan didn't miss how Wulfric perked up whenever he mentioned the Starfalls, so he did so deliberately at every opportunity. After about a quarter of an hour, Mr. Soren drained the last of his caf, stood, and announced, "Those podracers aren't going to tune themselves up. Back to work, Wulfie."

"That's my cue to get to the market," Obi-Wan said and standing, pushing his chair back from the table. "Thank you very much for your hospitality."

"Need to use the Holonet?" Mr. Soren offered.

In fact, Obi-Wan had a message to send Sabé's parents. As he went to the computer terminal in the garage, he mentally repeated the spy cant she'd had him memorize before he left home. He was keenly aware that Wulfric watched him type his message, and unsurprised when he heard the boy ask, "Grandpa? Can I go to the market with Ben?"

"Why? You got a girlfriend you want to sneak off to meet?"

"No! Just…I thought I could pick up the air scoops we need for Jer Orn's racer."

If Obi-Wan were to hazard a guess, Wulfric was much more interested in pressing for any information he might have about the Rebellion--never mind that Obi-Wan had told him, repeatedly, in no uncertain terms, that that would have to wait until Wulfric came of age. Not that Obi-Wan received such information, anyway. And today's correspondence had been purely personal.

"You could stop by the barber shop too." Mr. Soren's twinkling eyes drifted across the garage as Obi-Wan logged off the Holonet and swiveled around in the desk chair. "It's okay with me if Ben doesn't mind you tagging along."

Wulfric's pleading expression stopped just short of clasping hands in supplication, but nevertheless was not to be ignored.

Smiling at him, Obi-Wan echoed his earlier sentiment, "I'll enjoy the company."

~*~

"Fixing podracers is okay, I guess," Wulfric volunteered as they wound their way through the dusty market paths, apparently anticipating the inevitable question about how he liked working with his grandfather. He shrugged, or he might've merely adjusted the rucksack on his shoulders. "Definitely better than mucking eopie stalls."

"Yes, I should say so," Obi-Wan replied, chuckling, "but--"

"I know, I know. Even if I’m not destined to be a mechanic, I can learn a lot of useful stuff for…Well, they have to fix ships in the…"

 _Rebellion_ rang in Obi-Wan's ears, though Wulfric didn't say it aloud. His gaze drifted upward, dark eyes squinting into the glare of the twin suns, where distant specks of ships entered and escaped orbit above the domed rooftops of Mos Espa. Obi-Wan knew that look of longing; he'd seen it in the eyes of other boys, who'd found sadder lives off Tatooine than the ones they'd left behind. (Would he see it again, someday, in Luke's?) Wulfric didn't need a lecture about that.

"That attitude shows great maturity," Obi-Wan praised him, instead.

"Just taking your advice and looking for the good I can do where I am."

Their conversation lapsed as they stopped for a farmer driving a half-dozen bantha calves toward the spaceport, but when they'd passed, the dust settling and their mooing receding into the market din, Obi-Wan resumed where the boy left off.

"I know someone else who might like the assistance of a trained mechanic."

Wulfric gave him a dubious look, bracing for his assertions to be put to the test. "Who?"

"Sabé wants to scrap together a speeder bike. If she can get her hands on enough functional junk parts."

Sweeping a hand through his hair, relief evident, Wulfric said. "Pregnant eopie's not exactly the fastest mode of desert transport, huh?"

"Precisely." And after the calf was born, they wouldn't be able to separate it from its mother for half a day while they rode her to Mos Espa and back.

"I'll think about it," Wulfric said. "If grandpa can spare me."

"Of course." Obi-Wan suppressed a smirk, remembering what Mr. Soren had told him earlier about Wulfric's heart not being in his work.

"At least I can keep an eye out for scrap parts."

"That would be most helpful."

They came to the legume stall, where Obi-Wan handed the merchant an empty sack to fill with salthia beans. Protein-rich, they made an adequate substitute for meat, and perhaps their bland taste could be masked in a savory soup. Obi-Wan had eaten them plain to mask the taste of stale flatbread, before Sabé came to live with him.

But back then, he hadn't paid the amount the vendor told him as he tied off the top of the sack.

Obi-Wan blinked. "Pardon me, did I hear you correctly?"

The merchant's eyes narrowed above a snout-like nose, and he withdrew the sack from the edge of the counter. "Look, you don't want 'em, I can find another customer willing to pay for what's possibly the last shipment of salthia beans we'll get for a long time."

"Has the crop failed on Corellia?"

"Not hardly!" the vendor replied with a snort. "Empire's buying it all up to make some nutritional paste for the Navy."

Wulfric had hung back, but now sidled up to the booth. "Join the Navy, see the Galaxy…eat poodoo."

" _Heh._ Funny boy you got there," said the merchant. "Look, I'll throw in some molo seeds, no extra charge…But that's the best I can do."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan said, reaching into his belt pouch for his money. Although the sticker shock had worn off, he still felt dazed by the casual reference to the reach and growing might of the Empire.

"Glad I didn't join up with those recruiters," Wulfric commented with a grimace as they walked on. "Salthia bean nutritional paste. Blech. Sounds like baby food."

"I don't imagine the other side eats any better," Obi-Wan replied. He imagined the Imperial Navy, rank on rank, like a swelling sea in a storm. It would swallow up any Rebellion.

"That guy thought you were my dad."

The subject change came abruptly, yet at just the right time to pull Obi-Wan back from the brink of despair.

"What guy?"

"The bean guy. Said you had a funny boy."

"Oh. Did he?" He hadn't noticed. It wasn't the first time the relationship between him and a young companion had been taken for father and son. Indeed, having this sort of companion felt like walking a well-worn, familiar path. He hadn't thought he'd be able to take pleasure in that again--or, after Owen Lars made it clear Obi-Wan was to have no part in Luke's life, that it would even be an option. Yet here he was. His smile returned.

To others in the marketplace, however, the sight of them was unexpected. Obi-Wan overheard their remarks as he made his way from stall to stall, purchasing dry goods and pantry staples from the vendors: _"Didn't know Crazy Ben had a son…" "Not his boy, Soren's grandson…" "Remember when he threw that sick woman over his shoulder and took her home?" "Maybe Barvy Ben decided it was time to expand his family, so he's stealing a kid…"_

At his side, the Force juddered with indignation; a downward glance showed Wulfric's face drawn into a glower.

"They shouldn't say stuff like that about you. If they knew who you really are--"

Obi-Wan placed a hand on the youth's shoulder. "We'd find ourselves in the hands of the Empire, facing a fate much worse than salthia bean paste."

Wulfric sighed in concession to the point, yet he kept his eyes narrowed on the offending gossips. Not so very long ago, Obi-Wan's face would have flushed hot with shame at the ugly insinuations, but now he only felt an inward warmth at being in the position for another person to be affronted on his behalf.

It lifted his mood so much that he turned back to one of the jeerers and said with a slight wave of his fingers, "You have better things to do than bandy gossip and slander."

"I have better things to do than bandy gossip and slander."

"Wizard," Wulfric murmured. The look of awe he gave Obi-Wan _did_ make his face grow hot. "Ah, here's a scrap stall. Shall I finish my grocery shopping while you look for your air scoops?"

He didn't visit the fruit and vegetable sellers regularly these days, thanks to the success of the cellar garden. They didn't have a jogan tree, however, so when he spied a vendor selling the fruit, Obi-Wan made directly for the booth.

A sign read _Jogan Fruit, 2 wupiupi each. Or 3 for 6._

"But that's just basic arithmetic," Obi-Wan said.

"Eh?" grunted the fruit seller, who didn't look fully awake or alert, slumped on her stool. An odor emanated from her which smelled suspiciously like the cantina just visible through the canopies and curtains behind her stall.

"Never mind. I'll take two, please."

"But the special's three for six."

"Believe me, two are special enough."

He dropped four coins into her hand and two ripe fruits into his pack. Two pieces of fruit for four wupiupi was a splurge at any time and came even more dear when he'd paid such an exorbitant price for the beans. Sabé would scold, but she wouldn't be able to hide the delight in her eyes as she bit into the sweet purple jogan flesh. Unless she couldn't keep them down…then it would be an expensive waste. It was a gamble he was willing to make for her health.

A glance across the row revealed Wulfric still haggling at the scrap seller's stall, so Obi-Wan made his way to what had become a favorite corner of the market.

"Hello there, Ib," he greeted the turbaned artisan and author of racy romances who came around his booth of carved goods to shake his hand.

"As always, a pleasure to see you, my friend," Ib replied. "But where is your lovely wife?"

"At home, a little unwell, and in rather dire need of reading material."

"I do have something new," Ib replied, "but it's a children's book."

Obi-Wan grinned. "It'll be just the thing."

As Ib scurried behind his stall to fetch a copy of the holobook, Obi-Wan leaned in to inspect the newest carved creations arranged on a pretty cloth woven by Ib's wife. Once Sabé had given him a razor with an ornate carved handle, but today Ib's wares included more feminine trinkets--earrings, bracelets, pendants, and--most eye-catching--hair combs and clips. Although she'd adjusted to living rough on Tatooine and never complained about the lack of finery, so impractical for the hard work required by eking out an existence in the Jundland Wastes, he knew she must miss the more refined ways of Naboo. He picked up a clip, carved like a flower.

"How much for this?"

"For you, my loyal customer, a mere ten wupiupi!"

An extravagance, but Sabé's hair had grown so long--and lustrous--she'd begun to pull it up in a messy knot to get it off her neck in the heat. She deserved something pretty--and a gift from her husband that was somewhat more personal than ammo and a scope for her Tusken cycler rifle. The flower looked a bit like a rominaria blossom.

"My son made that," Ib announced, as Obi-Wan counted out the coins. "His first sale. He will be so proud."

"Almost as proud as you?"

Ib's laughter rang out, and he wagged his finger. "Just you wait, Ben!"

Obi-Wan knew something of that feeling of pride, but he let the thought go before it touched his heart with that wincing pain. The hair clip tucked safely into an inner pocket of his rucksack, he turned to see Wulfric on tiptoe, straining to see over the heads of the other shoppers.

"Find what you were looking for?"

Wulfric held up two sacks, clanking with his market finds. "I got a steal. If these had made their way to that sleemo Watto's, he would've charged five times the price. Found some parts for Sabé, too."

"At least one of us got a bargain today." One item remained on his list, but he was certain the vendor wouldn't take advantage of his disinclination to haggle or tempt him to spend more than he ought.

He bowed to the Ho'Din at the herb stall. "Master Gardener."

"Haven't I told you, there is no need for such formality between friends," the herbalist chided gently, but his dark reflective eyes danced merrily as he replied in turn, "How may I enrich you today? Nutrients for your water? _Tea_?"

His slight emphasis on the latter took Obi-Wan back to a time when he'd blushed and blundered a request for contraceptive tea. "Quite the contrary."

The Ho'Din withdrew his hand from the jar of herbs, understanding on his face. His reddish-violet coils of hair fell in his face as he inclined his head. "Maker be praised. In that case…" Reaching up with his long suction cup-tipped fingers for a large piece of ginger root strung overhead, "a different brew. To cure the morning sickness."

"Morning sickness?" echoed Wulfric, head snapping toward Obi-Wan. He hadn't seemed to be paying attention. "You mean…"

Obi-Wan grinned. He'd wondered when--or if--the boy would figure it out. "Sabé's--"

"You're going to be a _dad_?"

Though his cheeks ached from how wide his smile pulled, Obi-Wan found himself unable to answer right away, for Wulfric's particular phrasing made a lump form in his throat. The Ho'Din looked on as though he stood witness to something holy.

"Yes," Obi-Wan finally managed to choke out. "I am."

Their errands concluded, they started back toward Soren's. Wulfric wanted to know if his grandparents knew, if he could tell them when they got back to the garage…if Obi-Wan and Sabé had told his parents. They hadn't, actually--and Wulfric was chuffed to be the first to officially know--though Obi-Wan told him he wouldn't be surprised if Mari had guessed within ten minutes of her arrival at the hovel this morning. In fact, he had a bet with Sabé riding on it.

"This is so wizard!" Wulfric pivoted to walk backward down the street so he could face Obi-Wan. "Will your kid be…You know…" He'd shifted his sacks to one hand, slung over his shoulder, and wiggled the fingers of the other.

"A wizard?" Obi-Wan quipped. "I really can't say."

He knew little more than when Sabé asked whether Force-sensitivity ran in families. Luke had exhibited some ability the last time Obi-Wan visited, while Bail Organa had yet to report anything out of the ordinary from Leia.

"That's one lucky kid. Having you for a dad."

 _You're the closest thing I have to a father_ , young Anakin's voice came back to him from so long ago, a comment Obi-Wan hadn't paid heed enough to.

"I only hope I can be half the father yours is," he replied. "Speeder coming."

Wulfric turned to face forward. They walked the rest of the way back to his grandparents' in silence, the boy's expression thoughtful.

~*~

Mitali had yet to give birth, but she didn't lack for company in her corral, as Obi-Wan saw when the speeder crested the hill on which his hovel stood. Tuva and Gunnar, the youngest, freshly shorn Starfalls, were probably supposed to be mucking the eopie pen, but instead clanked the handles of their rake and shovel together like swords. Or sabers. The instant they saw their brother in the passenger seat, they dropped the makeshift weapons and abandoned Mitali, who bleated after them--forlorn, or ready for a little peace, Obi-Wan couldn't say.

"Wulfie!" they cried, clambering over the split rail fence to meet him. Gunnar caught his foot and pitched headlong into the dust, but the tumble scarcely slowed him.

Wulfric blinked back tears of happiness to see them, his relief and peace with his decision humming in the Force, but he affected an air of nonchalance as he hopped down from the speeder. "Hang on, you two. I gotta help Ben unload his gear."

Before Obi-Wan could tell the teenager that he could manage, Wulfric had loaded himself up with the rucksack and burlap bags of market purchases. Unconcerned that he was already burdened, his little brother and sister pounced on him, Tuva on his back, clinging to his neck, and Gunnar catching him around the waist, legs twined around one of Wulfric's, like some tree-dwelling creature. Although Wulfric grunted and groaned as he staggered across the yard, he tellingly did not order them to get off.

At the commotion, the side door opened and two redheads came out, their hair arranged in fancy Naboo styles.

Mari, carrying an empty milk crate, stopped short at the sight of her son, so that Dayne, at her heels, crashed into her.

"Wulfie!" Mari ran to him, remembering belatedly that her arms were laden. She dropped the crate on the ground and caught him in a crushing hug, ignoring the noisy complaints from Gunnar that he was getting squashed.

Abruptly, she drew back, holding him at arms' length by the shoulders as she looked him up and down. "You're giant. Grandma told me you'd grown, but I didn't imagine you'd be taller than me." Her pursed lips curled upward. "Your hair's almost as long as mine, too."

That elicited an eyeroll from Wulfric, when his mother enfolded his lanky frame to her again, he rested his cheek on her shoulder. As Tuva slid off his back, Obi-Wan thought he saw it quake. But any tears were hidden by the shaggy dark fringe.

There was no mistaking the tears in Mari's voice, however, as she asked, a little breathlessly, "Wulfie...are you coming home? To stay?"

Wulfric lifted his head. "Finding out Ben and Sabé are having a kid…" Mari's gaze drifted past him to Obi-Wan; she beamed at him before returning her attention to her son. "I guess it made me realize I miss you. And Dad." 

Obi-Wan had been almost as shocked and delighted as Mari when they'd gotten back to the Sorens' and Wulfric marched straight up to his grandfather if he could spare him in the garage, because it was time to go home.

"Also," Wulfric went on with a casual flip of his hair, "I'm gonna help Sabé build a speeder bike."

"I am _not_ giving you your room back," Dayne said, and Tuva and Gunnar clamored for Wulfric to stay in their room with them.

Leaving her children to work it out for themselves, Mari approached Obi-Wan where he still lingered by the hovering speeder.

"How long did it take you to suss our secret?" he asked.

"She threw up as soon as you left."

Obi-Wan glanced toward the house.

Mari placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Sabé's just fine. Taking a nap. She managed to keep a little flatbread down. Oh, Ben!" She threw her arms around him now. "I'm so happy for you both. You're going to be wonderful parents. And whatever you said to Wulfie…"

"I didn't say anything."

She raised an eyebrow in skepticism. "Or whatever you did. Sim will just... _Thank you._ " She turned to her bickering brood and said, "Come on, kids. Let's get out of Ben and Sabé's hair."

Wulfric deposited Obi-Wan's bags in the house, picked up his mother's crate and secured it in the storage compartment, and they all piled into the speeder to go home.

Obi-Wan watched until their speeder disappeared beneath the hillside and the hum of its engine passed beyond reach of his ears. He could just picture Sim tending the eopies back on his farm, looking up at the sound of the approaching speeder, and the emotion gleaming in his eyes when he saw his firstborn son with the rest of his family.

For a moment Obi-Wan lingered where he stood, contemplating how quiet his own homestead was after the Starfalls' commotion and the bustle of the city marketplace. For two years it had always been silent like this, when he was alone.

"With only my ghost for company," he murmured, and Qui-Gon's form shimmered before him. He didn't see him often, these days.

"I am glad you have less need of me, young one," he said, fading away again.

Obi-Wan turned and went into the barn, checking she had enough fresh straw and food and water in her troughs. As she nibbled Anoat oats from his hand, he placed the other on her swollen side. Her calf moved against his palm, and she bleated and blinked content brown eyes.

Not alone anymore.

_Life everywhere._

Inside, he took off his boots and scarf, Sabé's presence strong in the Force though he couldn't see her. From the open cellar door, he heard the thump of the overactive laundry unit, which Mari must've started while she was here. He padded on bare feet around it to the kitchen to put away his groceries. While the kettle boiled, he sliced one of the jogan fruits, arranging the pieces on a plate, and put two of Mrs. Soren's doughnuts on another. Sabé slept on through the teapot's whistle. Obi-Wan put the food and two steeping mugs on a tray and carried them into the living room, placing it on the low table by the bed. He lowered himself gingerly onto the edge of the bed beside her.

Sabé lay perfectly still, skin pale, except for the purple smudges beneath her eyes. The day he'd brought her here he'd watched her sleep, restless in her fever dreams. Qui-Gon's ghost had implored him to use the Force to heal the dying woman. Obi-Wan doubted his ability, but even more he'd feared what it might mean if she lived. That he would have to somehow live again, too.

Now they'd made a new life, together. He didn't even have to touch her to sense that third presence.

But he did.

As his fingers brushed her still-flat abdomen, her eyes opened.

"You're home."

Her arms snaked around his neck, and he kissed her, slow and sweet, as he pulled her upright.

"Did Mari and the kids leave?" she asked after, looking around the hovel in the drowsy confusion of having woken amongst different company than when she'd fallen asleep.

"They didn't want to wake you."

"Much as I hate to admit it, I'm glad they didn't." As if to make her point, she yawned, then leaned back against her pillows in the alcove. "How was Mos Espa?"

"Mari's mother sends her good wishes--and doughnuts--though I think you may want to test your stomach first."

He offered her one of the steaming earthenware mugs of tea, which she accepted, leaning in to sniff. She gave an appreciative _mmm_ , which was a change for the good; a wide range of smells had been setting off her nausea, from the expected funk of the eopie stall to, surprisingly, the rominaria-scented lotion in the refresher.

"Ginger," she said.

"Our herbalist friend recommended it, for morning sickness."

"All day sickness, you mean."

"I'll use some to make cookies, too."

Sabé put her mug to her smiling lips. As she sipped, her eyes went to the tray on the table, and Obi-Wan saw laughter dance in them. "Jogans were on sale at the market, I see?"

Obi-Wan grinned. Caught, as he'd known he would be. "They're good for the baby."

"Incorrigible," she said, without anything resembling accusation.

"You don't know the half of it." He gave her the children's holobook, which delighted her--even if she was dubious at first about the writer's skill in this genre--then he delved into his pocket and took out the carved hair clip.

Sabé gasped and sat up, placing her mug on the table. "Obi-Wan, it's--"

"For your hair." He deposited it in her hands.

Her mouth drew into a line as she cocked her head. " _I know_. I was going to say _too much_. Especially since I lost the bet about Mari. I'm the one who should be paying up."

"Yes, well, I believe your condition clouded your judgment. It was ungallant of me to agree to a bet about your ability to hide your nausea."

 _I used to convince people I was the Queen,_ she'd insisted. _How hard could this be?_

More seriously, he added, "We'll make do. Do you like it?" he asked, after she'd studied it for a moment, tracing her fingertip along the curves and hollows of the woodcarving.

"Almost as much as the rifle slugs and scope," Sabé replied, with a laugh that rang through the synstone room, and his joined it.

She threw back the covers and got out of bed.

"Oh dear," Obi-Wan said, rising as he saw her hurrying toward the refresher. "The ginger tea didn't agree?"

"It was lovely," she threw back over her shoulder. "I'm going to try out my new clip."

Obi-Wan followed, leaning against the doorframe as he watched her deft fingers twist her hair up in an intricate style and secure it in back with the clip. When she was finished, she turned her back to the wall mirror and raised a handheld one, turning her head this way and that to inspect her work.

"How does it look?" she asked.

She faced the large mirror again as Obi-Wan moved to stand behind her, giving the hairdo a cursory glance before turning his attention to her reflection in the mirror, alongside his. "Beautiful."

Slipping his arms around her waist, he pressed his lips to her smooth cheek, then she turned her head so that her mouth met his. This kiss quickly became more heated than the previous one, his hands sliding up over her ribcage to cup her breasts, which had grown fuller and firmer already though the rest of her body had yet to change. But they were sensitive, too, and when she squirmed he withdrew and allowed his kisses to become gentler until they drew apart and she settled back against his chest in the circle of his arms.

Until her stomach growled.

"Did you bring any other surprises back from the market?" she asked when they'd settled once again on the bed with the tray of doughnuts and jogan fruit between them.

"Only Wulfric."

Sabé's purple-stained mouth fell open.

"Wulfric came back?"

"Yes."

"He went home with Mari and the kids?"

"He did, indeed."

"And you didn't wake me up for that?"

Now it was Obi-Wan who had a purple gaping mouth.

"I thought you said you were glad we let you sleep," he teased, and her nose and forehead crinkled indignantly. "You'll see him. He wants to help you with your speeder bike."

Sabé reached for a doughnut and said around a bite, "You really are a wizard, you know."

"I'll settle for being a good father."


End file.
